Torn between two loves
by Adelaide DeLaBelle
Summary: Hooray! Me first work! Phantom of the opera. Super awsum. Its written in what i THINK is second person. Read it. Youll like it. If not then just give it a horrid review, and ill fix it :


inspiration: how to save a life-the fray

dedications: kayleigh!!!!! she stayed up until 12:00 with me just working on this. and we found out that we make good teletubbies and djs. but that's a whole diff story. she taught me this awsum 2nd person type writing. It's a phantomlicious type of writing and makes the stories all that cooler. Tubby Custard!!!

notes: sorry about the length. its a short story. and its my first work. lol. Again, criticism is good. even the harsh kind. the story line i think is good. but i play it out all wrong. It's a little, idk. but its missing something. and idk what. its kinda boring too. i hate it. but feel free to read it.

You wake up. You are sweating. Your blood is cold. Are you, crying?

It's alright. You lied. You escaped. You and Raoul our free now.

_But was it a lie? Are you free?_

It's been 3 years since that horrible incident. You don't want to think about it.

The time is 3 hours past midnight.

Today is your wedding day.

As you walk your self down the aisle, you cannot stop thinking. About,

…Him.

What? You must have zoned out. He says "I do." You can't do this.

_Run._

You flee. Your feet are carrying you as fast as they can past familiar landscape.

Where are you?

You're confused. You're hurt. Your stomach is in a knot. Your eyes are dry, red, and swollen with the sadness. But what can you do?

**Your feet are carrying you toward where you want to be. It pains me to know what lies for you at the end of this story dear Christine. You cannot be with him. You are hurt. Emotionally distraught. And you can never be with him. You don't know the hours I spend toiling, trying to explain your emotion. From the comfort of my home I am weeping for you. I have sympathy. The public can try to understand. Some may grasp it, some may not. I agonize for those who can.**

You're at your father's grave. You begin to cry. You feel a

…..presence. It's speaking to you. But you do not understand.

_What are you telling me? I feel you there……_

_Am I right in doing this? It isn't fair…_

_Must I choose between two loves? This strange affair……_

_The phantom of the opera is there… this I'm aware_

_I'm in no position, to tell you right and wrong_

_But I'm afraid that to me, you can't belong,_

_And if you must go, sing with me one last song………_

_The phantom of the opera is there…… But not for long…_

_He doesn't know of course,_

_I'm so distraught,_

_Your advice my angel?_

_Alas, I have no thoughts._

_Why are you leaving me? Please do not go……_

_The phantom of the opera is there, but what should I do?_

Raoul has caught up with you. He runs to you and you burst into sobs as he cradles you in his arms.

You hear a voice. It is your own. "I love you."

_But who are you talking to?_

You understand it now. It's okay. He is accepts you, and him. Together.

_But do you?_

**It isn't okay. You know. I know. Every poor soul on this planet now knows. **

You are back in the church. The wedding ceremony is restarting; you take the ring and say "I do." This is the happiest day of your life. You are getting married.

_Why do you want to cry?_

**Cry my dear, cry your heart out. You don't deserve this pain. No-one does. Cry like you've never cried before. Cry with me. Cry with him. Sob. **

Raoul is uneasy all during the reception.

**My poor Raoul. My little third wheel. You, my friend, are married to Christine. Isn't that all you've ever wanted? But alas, those memories will taunt you forever. Just as they bring tears to my eyes. My poor tortured soul. **

You should talk to him. You tell him nothing is wrong. You're just a little scared, is all. He accepts this answer and seems to be alright. He relaxes and has fun. At least one of you should.

As the hall empties out you start to load the carriage with the gifts. Raoul walks out with the last lot.

As your walking out, something catches your eye.

A rose. A beautiful red rose with a black satin ribbon.

_From your beloved._

**And my poor Christine, if only you knew that the angel of music was still watching you. He has guided you this far, let him take the reins. If only you could. And somewhere an angel is crying. Weeping. Weeping for you.**

_Don't think of me_

_Don't think of me fondly,_

_When we've said goodbye._

_Forget me now_

_It's only more grief_

_To know of what could have been_

_When you find_

_That, once_

_Again, you long_

_To take your heart back_

_And be free -_

_You know you do,_

_My dear Christine_

_Forget about me………… _

_We never said  
our love  
was evergreen,  
or as unchanging  
as the sea -  
but if  
you can still  
remember  
stop thinking  
of me . . ._

Think of all the things  
i've done to you  
the torture you live with  
forget me now

_Can it be?_

_Can it be Christine?_

_That you really,_

_Cared for me, Christine,_

_Must you leave me now in horrid pain?_

_You should  
not remember  
me, but  
I'll remember  
you..._

_Think of me,  
think of me waking,  
silent and  
resigned._

Imagine me,  
trying too hard  
to put you  
from my mind.

Recall those days  
look back  
on all those times,  
think of the things  
we'll never do -  
there will  
never be  
a day, when  
I won't think  
of you. .

_We never said_

_Our love_

_Was evergreen,_

_Or as unchanging_

_As the sea -_

_But please_

_Promise me,_

_That sometimes_

_You will think of me!_

**Oh Christine, the things I would tell you. I could comfort you. But I have realized:**

**I may talk to you all I like. But you cannot hear me.**

_**Cry my dear. Cry your heart out.**_


End file.
